part 3 Confessions . . . and thoughts . . . On the anniversary of my dad's death

For four years Kate and I had expected to move to Edmonton - with support financial, practical, and moral from our community in Lethbridge - with solid plans and first steps - with a job - with a place to live - but in September of 2008, we arrived with none of what we thought would be necessary to begin. Besides this, we were hurt, confused, and broken by what we had left in Lethbridge. Our confidence, our vision, and even our view of God and the church were badly damaged.

What we did have was six friends who shared our vision for community in Edmonton. Four were ready to move in with us, including Joshua, who moved with us from Lethbridge, James from Peterborough, who we'd met by chance through the camp we volunteered at before our move, David, who lived in Edmonton and worked at the Hope Mission, and Bethany, also from Ontario, who we'd been introduced to through a mutual friend in Edmonton. The four of us, along with two other Edmonton friends began immediately to imagine and plan the next step.

Joshua, James, Kate and I had all moved to Edmonton without a place to live. We discovered quickly that six jobless, homeless young people are not most landlord's favourite ideas for tenants. Add the detail that we planned to have community events in our home, and we were in for a struggle. For two months the four of us lived in friend's guestrooms and on couches. Kate and I were taken in by two different families from a Brethren church in town that wanted to help us. We went back and forth between the two homes.

I remember identifying with a story of Abraham in Hebrews 11 that described Abraham moving to a place that he believed God would give him a home in, and living there as a stranger in tents. There is a feeling in not having a home that I had never experienced before or since. At the best of times, it was extremely humbling and somewhat scary, at the worst it was humiliating and wreaked havoc on our already badly damaged confidence. There was one night at the end of September where I went to bed, actually unsure of where my wife and I would sleep the next night. We were strangers.

In our meetings as a community, we encouraged the hope in one another. We prayed together, ate together, and shared communion. I remember sharing one message with the group from Hebrews 11 about Abraham. Joshua and James continued to willingly live without a permanent home, but we all continued to look forward to when a house would be a reality.

At the same time, Kate and I also gladly began reconnecting with friends we'd been making in the social action scene. In Edmonton, September means lots of preparation for the Anarchist Book Fair, and we were in like Flynn. Though most of the anarchist community weren't aware of how desperate our living situation was, we were very happy to begin our new Edmonton life getting to know them and sharing our life in that world. I remember how we'd been given an apartment to live in for an entire month in October, and sharing this exciting news at the bookfair that year. I'd be working the front desk, and if a stranger would ask me how I was doing, I'd be excitedly sharing how I actually had a home for at least the next four weeks. It was a great place to start.

part 1 Confessions . . . and thoughts . . . On the anniversary of my dad's death

In September of 2008 I moved to Edmonton with Kate. Some of our Edmonton friends might be surprised to realize it was so recently. We'd been visiting Edmonton so frequently by the time that we moved, that many assumed we'd been living here for years.

We'd intended to make this move since the Summer of 2004 in Lethbridge, Alberta. We'd planned to get married, start a youth drop in and mentorship program at our church, and then move to Edmonton to plant a church. Once established in Edmonton, we'd start a family.

We spent three years getting the high school program in Lethbridge started. By 2007, we regularly had one hundred awesome misfit teenagers and young adults hanging out, enjoying punk rock shows, and being loved. There was a collective of twelve ready to keep it going.

We loved those kids. Really. They spat and swore and were violent and . . . worse. They were everything we believed that Jesus' friends were probably like. We were together at shows, parties, dinners, weddings, and funerals. Our faith was coming alive like we'd never experienced. And we began to enter their world, and the world of the punk bands that played at the event.

A couple of years in, we looked down at our black leather oots, and realized we'd started to kind of "blend in". We liked it.

This is around the time we started visiting Edmonton. We had no money (volunteering to start a youth drop in doesn't pay much), but we were excited to discover the arts and activism scene in the capital city. We stuck our thumbs out on the highway, and headed North. In 2007/2008, we spent more time on friend's floors in Edmonton than we did in our own hometown. We almost always hitchhiked.

One of my earliest memories was showing up at the Anarchist Bookfair in 2007. I was so nervous. I'd been reading Chomsky, Naomi Klein, and Tolstoy, and liked them, but had never met a real anarchist. Not knowing what to expect, I stuttered as I told strangers who'd later become friends that I was a Pastor, and wanted to plant a church in Edmonton. Hardly judgmental, most of the crew were warm, engaging, and kind. The biggest impressions were made by Samano from Calgary, Pete with the gigantic smile and thick dreds, Jeff passed out tired in the hallway, and Monika who drove us home. When I got in Monika's car, I wasn't sure if I should wear my seatbelt, i mean, assuming she was an anarchist.

I remember being asked if I was a Quaker or a Mennonite by one of the vendors. Nice.